"Yes, I'm the gardener. I _know_ what _you_ are." "How much do you ask for your strawberries?" "They come high. _Nothing_ of mine is to be as cheap hereafter as it has been." "I am so glad--for your sake. I should like to possess _something_ of yours, but I suppose everything is too high now." "Entirely too high!" "If I only could have foreseen that there would be an increase of value! As for me, I have felt that I am getting cheaper lately. I may have to _give_ myself away soon. If I only knew of some one who loved the lower animals." "The fox, for instance?" "Yes; do you know of any one who would accept the present of a fox?" "Ahem! I wouldn't mind having a _tame_ fox. I don't care much for wild foxes." "Oh, this one would get tame--in time." "I don't believe I know of any one just at present." "Very well. Sylvia will get the highest mark in arithmetic. And Joe is distinguishing himself at West Point. That's what I wanted to tell you. I'll send you over the cream and sugar, and hope you will enjoy all your berries. _We_ shall buy some in the market-house next week." Later in the forenoon I sent the strawberries over to Georgiana. I have a variety that is the shape of the human heart, and when ripe it matches in color that brighter current of the heart through which runs the hidden history of our passions. All over the top of the dish I carefully laid these heart-shaped berries, and under the biggest one, at the very top, I slipped this little note: "Look at the shape of them, Georgiana! I send them all to you. They are perishable." This afternoon Georgiana sent back the empty dish, and inside the napkin was this note: "They are exactly the shape and color of my emery needle-bag. I have been polishing my needles in it for many years." Later, as I was walking to town, I met Georgiana and her mother coming out. No explanation had ever been made to the mother of that goose of a gate in our division fence; and as Georgiana had declined to accept the sign, I determined to show her that the gate could now stand for something else. So I said: "Mrs. Cobb, when you send your servants over for green corn, you can let them come through that little gate. It will be more convenient." Only, I was so angry and confused that I called her Mrs. Corn, and said that when she sent her little Cobbs over . . . my green servants, etc. After Georgiana's last treatment of me I resolved not to let her talk to me out of her window. So about nine o'clock this morning I took a Negro boy and set him to picking the berries, while I stood by, directing him in a deep, manly voice as to the best way of managing that intricate business. Presently I heard Georgiana begin to sing to herself behind the curtains. "Hurry up and fill that cup," I said to him, savagely. "And that will do this morning. You can go to the mill. The meal's nearly out."